


Eavesdropping

by riventhorn



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-08
Updated: 2010-08-08
Packaged: 2017-10-17 18:37:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/179989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riventhorn/pseuds/riventhorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a kinkme_merlin prompt. The knights fantasize about Arthur all the time, but he's oblivious to their overtures. So instead, they spend their time concocting dirty stories about Merlin and Arthur...and one day Arthur overhears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eavesdropping

The sound of creaking leather and shifting chairs, followed by loud thumps as the barmaid set out mugs of ale. Then a voice: “I think my arm is about to fall off. Three hours doing the same drill, over and over—out in the hot sun, too!”

That would be Tristan, his voice still light and boyish, currently cast in a petulant tone.

“It might seem useless now, but when you’re in the middle of a fight and scared shitless your reflexes will take over. Probably save your life.” That was Sir Robert, settling into his chair with a sigh.

Tristan continued, still sulking, “Well, the prince didn’t have to keep yelling at me the entire time. Gods, he was in a foul mood!”

Arthur, sitting behind a thin partition that hid him from the knights but allowed him to hear their conversation, frowned. He hadn’t realized Tristan was such a whiny little bastard. Arthur made a mental note to make him muck out the stables tomorrow.

“Aye, the prince was in rare form today,” Gawain chimed in. “Don’t worry, though, lad. He’ll be all smiles tomorrow, just wait and see.”

“Why?” Tristan asked. “Is he bedding one of the maids—or perhaps a lady? I thought Lady Eliose’s breasts were going to burst out of her dress last night at dinner. And she kept leaning forward, asking me things, showing them off.”

“I’d stay away from Eliose if I were you,” Leon warned. “Her husband is a jealous bastard—he’d not think twice about sticking a knife in you, if he caught you looking.”

Tristan sounded sulkier than ever as he replied. “He wouldn’t catch me. But tell me, who warms the prince’s bed?”

Arthur took a sip of his ale and shifted closer to the partition.

“His manservant—Merlin,” Robert answered.

“His manservant?” Tristan replied, interested.

“You’ll not have seen him yet, I suppose. He’s been away for two weeks—that’s what put the prince in such a temper.”

Arthur scowled. Merlin going off to Ealdor had not put him in a temper. It wasn’t his fault that his knights were completely hopeless and needed discipline drummed into them.

“Is he—” Tristan paused, “uh, worth it?”

“Fuck yes,” Gawain said, laughing. “If I didn’t think the prince would rip my balls off if I so much as touched him, I’d have found out if the boy’s mouth really is as sweet as it looks long ago.”

Arthur realized he was gripping the hilt of his sword. Unclenching his fingers, he put them firmly around his ale mug.

“He has to be a shameless slut, too. Probably climbed into the prince’s bed, begged him to fuck him. It had to have taken something as blatant as that to get the prince to notice him, since he never picked up on any of our signals.” Robert’s voice was tinged with jealousy.

“You, um…” Tristan trailed off.

“Want to kneel in front of the prince and take his prick in my mouth? Hell, yes.” Robert sighed. “Wouldn’t you?”

“He must look quite impressive with his clothes off. All those muscles…” Tristan sighed, too. “Is he—you know—big?”

“He’s perfect,” Leon answered. “I caught sight of it during a hunting trip—”

“And you’ve wanked off to the memory ever since,” Gawain put in, sniggering.

Arthur allowed a smug smile to cross his face for a moment.

“But none of us will ever get any of that,” Leon continued in a resigned voice.

“Do you think he even waited for Merlin to get up to his chambers?” Gawain mused. “Or do you think he took him right in the stables?”

“Probably pressed him into the hay, shoved the boy’s breeches down, ordered him to get on his knees.” Leon’s voice was a little hoarse. “A little spit, a quick finger, and then he just shoved his cock in.”

“Slapped his hand on the boy’s mouth so he didn’t cry out,” Robert added. “And then started thrusting, rough and fast. Probably asking Merlin if he missed his cock, if Merlin had thought of being fucked like this every day he’d been gone.”

“And Merlin?” Tristan sounded a bit breathless.

“Oh, he’d be moaning for it, begging the prince to go faster, to fill him up. And then the prince must have come, deep in that boy’s tight arse,” Robert finished.

Well, they had done it in the stables, but it had been much more confused and rushed. Merlin slamming him into the wall, the horse snorting, fingers and hands getting tangled, suddenly coming and being very glad he was wearing his long coat.

“He wouldn’t let Merlin come yet, though,” Gawain put in. “Just hauled him up to his feet and pulled his breeches back up. Told him to get up to his chambers.”

“Everyone who saw him would know what had happened,” Tristan said eagerly, getting into the spirit of the whole thing. “Clothes covered with hay, cheeks flushed, limping a little.”

“Fuck, yeah,” Gawain groaned. “If I’d have seen him—gods, I might have shoved him up against the wall, had him right then and there.”

Arthur bit back a growl.

“You think he’d ever let us?” Robert said in a wistful voice. “It would be like doing a service for him. Opening the boy up, getting him all loose and wet. I’d bend him over the table, give him a leisurely fuck, and then send him off to the prince.”

“And the prince would slide his cock in, Merlin’s hole still wet with our come.” Leon swallowed. “He’d tell Merlin what a slut he was, what a whore. How he couldn’t get enough cock.”

“And when he’d finished, he’d bend down, lick the boy’s hole, all the come dribbling out.” Gawain took a long drink of ale. “And then kiss him and sit back, make Merlin jerk himself off while he watches.”

“He probably did that today—when they got back to his chambers,” Tristan put in.

“No—no I bet he tied him up,” Robert interjected. “A little rope to bind his hands behind him so that he couldn’t touch himself. And Merlin begging for something, anything.”

Actually, Merlin had taken one look at the piles of dirty laundry and dishes and promptly started complaining, asking why Arthur had thought it a good idea to leave all this for him to do—there were other servants in the castle, after all. In fact, Arthur had gotten another servant while Merlin had been gone, but he’d dismissed that servant this morning, knowing that Merlin was coming back, but forgetting it wouldn’t be until late afternoon. He did not say this to Merlin, of course.

“He’d order the boy to kneel, while he sat on the bed,” Gawain decided. “Open his breeches and take out his prick—already hard again. Then he’d take the boy’s mouth. Let him suck for a while and then he’d start thrusting a little, gripping the boy’s hair.”

“He wouldn’t come yet, though,” Leon said quickly. “He’d pull out after a moment, and Merlin would sit back, all flushed and breathing hard.”

“The prince would ask him if he wanted to be fucked again,” Tristan said, sliding his chair a little violently over the floor. “And Merlin would say yes, oh, gods, please, yes. And then the prince would gesture for him to get up, and he’d pull Merlin onto his lap.”

“And Merlin would slide down onto his cock,” Gawain added. “And the prince would order him to ride him. Merlin would start fucking himself, the prince holding his hips, leaning in to suck on his nipples. And the boy’s prick—all hard and wet—rubbing against the prince’s chest.”

“Finally, he’d wrap his hand around it.” Robert’s voice was low and hoarse. “He’d give it a few strokes, and Merlin would come, crying out, and then slump forward, the prince’s cock still buried inside him.”

“And the prince would lay him down onto the bed and start fucking, deep and slow this time.” Leon took a loud gulp of ale.

“He’d stop just before he came, though,” Tristan said, “and give himself a few tugs and come all over Merlin’s stomach. And he’d dip his fingers in it and feed it to Merlin, let him lick it all up.”

“And tell him how good he was, promise that he would take him again in a little while. And Merlin would whimper a bit while the prince untied the rope. But the prince would soothe him, kiss him, and Merlin would crowd close, already rutting against the prince’s thigh again. And the prince would stop him, tell him he had to wait, and pet his hair until he dozed off,” Leon finished.

There was a long, slightly glum silence.

“Have to get up early for a patrol,” Gawain finally muttered, and there was the clatter of coins on the table, chairs being pushed back, and soon all the knights were crowding out the door, taking no notice of Arthur, still sitting in his dark corner.

He had fucked Merlin—although it hadn’t gone quite like that. Merlin had finally stopped complaining about all the laundry to be done, but Arthur had to give him some spiced wine and some almonds to coax Merlin back into a more agreeable mood.

“I’m tired,” Merlin had protested when Arthur started kissing his neck, although he hadn’t seemed too tired when he pushed Arthur onto the bed, worked himself down on Arthur’s cock, and started vigorously rocking back and forth.

“Missed this,” Merlin had gasped, and actually grabbed Arthur’s hand and wrapped it around his prick. “Come on, Arthur. Need you to—want to feel—please.” At least he had fit a please in there, and Arthur had been too lost in the rhythm, in the sensation of Merlin tight around him, to chastise him for ordering the crown prince about.

When they had both come, Merlin had slipped down, cuddling up to Arthur, yawning.

“It will get cold if you don’t start a fire,” Arthur had said, but Merlin had made an unhappy little noise and snuggled closer. Arthur sighed and settled for kissing Merlin a few times before Merlin fell asleep, drooling on his shoulder. Arthur had eased away and pulled the blankets up around Merlin, and then decided he would be magnanimous and start the fire himself. Merlin was deeply asleep, and Arthur had been horrified to discover that he had simply been watching Merlin, a slightly lovesick smile on his face, for at least ten minutes. So he had dressed again and slipped off to the tavern for some ale, pulling up his cloak so no one would recognize him.

And then the knights had come and, well… Halfway through their little fantasy, he had been hard, and he couldn’t help reaching down to give his prick a brief rub. Would Merlin ever—ever do any of those things? The thought of Merlin begging or tying him up—Arthur swallowed hard.  
He couldn’t imagine actually _asking_ Merlin about it though. The best thing would be if Merlin could hear it for himself. Arthur grinned. Now that sounded like a plan.

Three days later, he was back at the tavern, Merlin sitting next to him shrouded in a cloak and irritably hissing at Arthur, demanding to know why they were doing this. Arthur managed to shush him just as Gawain, Leon, Robert, and Tristan came in. They went to their usual table and soon were engaged in a familiar topic of conversation.

Arthur couldn’t look at Merlin at first, but finally he risked a glance. Merlin’s eyes were wide, and his mouth was slightly open. The knights had just gotten to an interesting scene, where Arthur was sitting on his father’s throne, Merlin bent over his knees with his arse bare, Arthur alternately spanking him and slipping a finger into his hole. Merlin gave a choked gasp and suddenly grabbed Arthur’s arm, jerking him up.

Of course, Arthur’s plan didn’t quite work out as _he_ ended up bent over _Merlin’s_ lap, trying to muffle his groans as Merlin’s palm connected with his skin, but as his prick rubbed against Merlin’s breeches, Merlin’s answering hardness poking him back, Arthur decided he didn’t mind too much. Although he _was_ glad that his knights couldn’t see him.


End file.
